


Love Dares You

by Riaaanna



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Communication Issues, Don't copy to other sites, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone loves Freddie, Family, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Mentions of Sex, Missing Scene, Period-Typical Homophobia, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-08 10:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17384675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riaaanna/pseuds/Riaaanna
Summary: All that Freddie has ever wanted to do is live freely and love fully. The Queen boys try their best to make everything work. It's difficult, but it's worth fighting for.Filling in the gaps and looking into perspectives of Bohemian Rhapsody (2018), a movie with good intentions BUT could have done much better.(In which Brian is not perfect, Roger is more than a pretty face, John is not invisible, and Freddie has given nothing but love for all three of them.)





	1. One Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This will be a series of chapters filling in on the Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) movie. Anything shown in the movie is the canon I'm following, everything else not shown will be taken from historical facts when I can.
> 
> The portrayal of some character relationships in the movie is quite different from what we know to be true in real life. This is to bridge the gap between that. Of course, they will still be (heavily) dramatized to hopefully tug a little on your heartstrings.
> 
> Title borrowed from Under Pressure.
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @Riaaanna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger finds Freddie absolutely enchanting.
> 
> Set during: Dong Alright.

“ _I know what I’m doing…”_

Roger can feel the exact moment his breath was caught. From the corner of his eye he can see that Brian, sitting next to him in the back of that van, goes still in astonishment.

“ _I got a feeling, I should be doing all right…”_

He watches as the boy lifts his chin and raises his arm in a gesture like-so, as if beckoning Roger's and Brian’s own vocal chords to join him and match his note.

_“Doing all right…”_

Bloody hell, Roger thinks, if that isn’t the best harmony to his ears that he never even thought was possible.

Brian grins at them and this boy looks away smiling, trying to hide his teeth again. Roger looks at him, properly this time and in a new light. He allows the feelings of hurt and betrayal from when Tim left them to be slowly replaced with hope. He can still have a future. He won’t be abandoned anymore. He won’t lose this.

Roger is still stunned when he explains about his additional teeth and vocal range. Of course, the tiny corner of unnecessary dental library in his brain whispers, that makes sense. He silently takes back his comment about the teeth, swallowing it whole.

“I’ll consider your offer,” the boy says as he saunters away, hands on his hips.

Roger looks at Brian. Brian looks positively glowing.

They may not have a bassist yet, but Roger gives way to the slow thrill and anticipation growing in his chest. He’ll take whatever chance he can have because, honestly, _nobody_ really wants to be a dentist. Even though Brian is a little more passionate about his studies compared to Roger, he just knows that Brian will be with him every step of the way.

The sheer joy on Brian’s face is so infectious. Roger smiles too. They can’t give up now.

Screw the Humpy Bong.

* * *

 

The first time they rehearse together, Roger can see that Freddie Bulsara was born for the spotlight.

His energy and flamboyance never wavers during a performance, much like the first night they met. When Roger played with Brian, the familiar chemistry between them keeps his beats on the drum; a comforting sense of belonging in the music they make. When Roger plays with Brian _and_ Freddie, everything around him feels _electric_.

Now _this_ ; this is a _rock band_. This is what _Smile_ should have been all along.

They finish Brian’s song, _Keep Yourself Alive_ , although Freddie hasn’t looked quite comfortable with the lyrics. Roger swears he sees a glint of mischief in Freddie’s eyes and resists a smirk himself – he will have to keep an eye on him later.

Freddie settles on a piano and his fingers drift to the ghostly beginnings of a riff.

Roger comes up to him, cigarette puffing between his lips, and listens. “You wrote that?”

Freddie stops and looks up with a grin. “It’s called _Seven Seas of Rhye._ ”

Roger ducks his face slightly to mask his spontaneous raise of eyebrows. He has apparently seen nothing yet of Freddie’s full theatrical capability. “Sounds very grand.”

“Oh it will be,” Freddie promises with one last flourish of fingers across the keys before turning fully to face Roger. “We sound _very_ good together, you know? The three of us.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“So many things we can do with that!” Freddie exclaims, already having a clear vision of them in his head. “How high can you go, do you reckon?”

The grin on Roger’s face matches Freddie’s and he feels that blossom of hope in his chest again.

* * *

 

They have had enough rehearsals for the three of them, Roger is sure. The only thing keeping them from the next college gig they can book is finding just the right bassist. They have been going through several different bassists, and with each new person they try, Roger can only feel more frustration.

Brian doesn’t even need to count the cigarettes that Roger finished – he feels the frustration coming off Roger in waves. One Saturday night, he takes them all to stay over at his place and have drinks.

It works, of course. Brian is relieved to see it take the edge off Roger, who grumbles tipsily, after going through Brian’s college books, about why Brian should just drop out already and play music with them _forever_ , because it’s not like he’s going to be an astronaut or anything.

Brian tries not to think too hard about it.

Freddie, on the other hand, is dancing merrily away in the small confine that is Brian’s room where all three of them are gathered in. Brian watches in awe and amusement; even in this state, he still moves both steadily and gracefully with the rhythm of his own drunken humming. The humming turns into words that Brian won’t remember the next day, but is sure to be different parts of different songs that Freddie wrote and tucked away in his mind, because all of the notes are _in tune_.

Sitting on his bed and being the most sober out of the three – though the bar is not very high – Brian is unprepared when a drunk Roger springs on him with a shout and bounces the bed. Roger giggles as he tries to arrange himself and Brian ends up with a lapful of blonde long hair.

Brian’s skinny thighs make a surprisingly comfortable pillow, so Roger settles and turns his face to where Freddie is still doing what he supposes is a bit of ballet. The two of them watches him quietly for a while, as Freddie hums away obliviously and occasionally rising to hit the perfect high notes.

Brian leans back tiredly and gently wraps an arm around Roger, who wraps his fingers around Brian’s wrist and murmured, “He’s _amazing_ isn’t he?”

Peeking out of his wavy locks, Brian continues to watch with a small smile, wanting this to be his future, wanting them to be his family. His arm around Roger tightens.

“Yes,” Brian whispers. “Yes he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real-life Tim Staffell is lovely and did the "Doing All Right... Revisited" track on the Bohemian Rhapsody soundtrack!
> 
> EDIT: I've heard it before but haven't found it until now - this is drunk Freddie still hitting all the right notes that inspired the last bit. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFbr_Z2ZWpQ


	2. Now I'm Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was destined to be theirs.
> 
> Set during: Keep Yourself Alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing John Deacon is difficult. I hope this ends up just fine. 
> 
> Enjoy!

For John Deacon, the first feeling he registers after finishing the performance is relief.

They have rehearsed many times since John joined the band a few weeks ago. However, it was still the first gig with all four of them together. John hasn’t exactly been anxious, but he hasn’t been fully confident of how the performance would turn out.

It has little to do with his ability as a bassist and more to do with settling in with the band.

The day he arrived at audition, John remembers, he felt like he was intruding on a private moment shared between the three band members. Anyone from the outside would feel that, he tells himself. This was different, though, looking at this close-knit group of three; he couldn’t imagine immediately how exactly he would fit in.

They welcomed him, played with him, and decided they quite liked him. He still doesn’t know what they saw in him. It only took them a few more days to name him, officially, part of the band. And yet… he hadn’t quite felt like that.

He made himself comfortable through the link of their music. He just wanted to play some bass and he could do it here. He stopped thinking about how he was unlike the glorious storm that was Freddie, Roger, and Brian.

He didn’t think there was a chance that this band would even last.

However, John did what he can, took every song given to him, and got better with each rehearsal.

“So you made this yourself?” Brian asked one day, gesturing to the small amp John had carried in with him.

John smiled shyly. “Found the poor thing in a skip. Cleaned it up a bit, fitted it to this speaker.”

Brian let out a hum in impression and lifted his Red Special. “I made this with my dad. I’m still trying to figure out all the things I can make it do, and, well…” Brian shrugged, barely containing his enthusiasm. “May I?”

They plugged it into the simple, knob-less amp. Brian’s fingers moved gently across the strings and they listened to sounds that John knew only these two handcrafts can make. There was a warm yet distorted sort of quality to it, and Brian looked up at John with raised eyebrows, almost in pleasant surprise.

“ _Take good care of what you’ve got, my father said to me…”_

John smiled encouragingly at Brian. If this doesn’t work out in the end, John thought, he could at least relish in their music for now.

* * *

 

They pack their equipment into the van, still high on the thrill of their first gig together. John is an exception – he looks wearily at the other three and feels as if he could pass out right there.

“…but next time, you could at least let me know if you wanted to re-write it.”

“Oh don’t make such a fuss, dearest, they love us!”

“Well yeah, but—”

“Then what does it matter?”

Brian pouts at Freddie and huffs. He knows when he is beaten. Freddie’s version of the song is catchier, he supposes, but he won’t say it out loud. “Well it doesn’t now, I guess.”

Freddie resists a grin. He takes Brian’s arm and reaches up to ruffle his wavy locks. “Alright, alright, I’ll run it with you next time. Now let’s get drinks!”

“It’s on you, you’re making it up to me,” Brian commands, doesn’t want to give away how easily Freddie persuades him. He turns to Roger and John. “Coming?”

John sits at the back of the van, visibly trying to relax himself. “You go ahead. Rog?”

Roger looks as if he wants to come, but he looks at John and doesn’t have it in him to leave John alone. He flops down next to John and pulls out a cigarette. “Nah. But don’t take long if we’re still coming back to my house.”

Brian feels bad then; they shouldn’t leave their newest member alone after their first gig together. “We’ll be quick,” Brian promises. Freddie is already dragging him away, also hurriedly promising to come back with some takeaway food.

The two walks away then, Freddie skipping and shouting something that sounds victorious into the night air while Brian strolls calmly beside him.

Roger shakes his head at them. He lights his cigarette and offers one to John. “You tired?”

John takes it eagerly. “Just a bit nervous. It’s fine now.”

“Really? You did great! Perfect, even. Took us _ages_ to find you, you know,” Roger says.

John gives him a look. “You mean someone like me?”

“No, _you_ ,” Roger emphasizes and looks at John as if he were so precious. John was _destined_ to be theirs. “We’ve been through like six bassists, and you... you just showed up to plug this gap and didn't even drop a fucking beat. I really mean _you_.”

“Oh.” John doesn’t know what to say but that. He looks away, but Roger is pleased to notice the curl on the corner of his lips.

“I know we’re a bit… well, _crazy_ …”

“Understatement,” John says with a smile.

Roger laughs then. “Yeah! Yeah, I know you’ve seen us three doing all sorts of things and we’re not so easy to put up with. But you’re perfect for us, Deacy. I really hope you’ll stick with us.”

Yes, John has seen them do all sorts of things in that short period of time. He’s seen them rehearse at half past two in the morning because Brian was being a stubborn perfectionist. He’s seen Roger and Freddie argue over songwriting while sprawled on top of each other on a sofa with no actual song coming out of that particular discussion, and everyone ends up so much grumpier the next day.

He wasn’t sure then if he could keep up with how hectic it gets at times.

Tonight, however, is a whole different story. He has _never_ seen anyone perform to the crowd like Freddie just did. He has never gained this much strength from someone else’s confidence, and Freddie – with every step on the stage and swing of his tambourine – was positively _radiating_ with it. He has never felt this kind of liberation when playing his bass; even through his own nervous energy.

John takes a drag of his cigarette and glances at Roger after this contemplation. Roger looks back, his eyes ridiculously shiny in the night and his face gently reassuring – something John caught earlier on stage.

_“Ready, Freddie?”_

John thinks he belongs with the three of them after all.

“Well,” John answers, trying to hide his smirk but failing. “As long as it’s not _too_ crazy.”

Roger grins and squeezes his shoulder. “No promises!”

The next time John comes in to play, he won’t realize when exactly he starts letting himself settle between them, lets himself get dragged into one of their antics, or becomes comfortable enough to be in his own world as the other three absorb the heat of the spotlight on stage.

John will be glad he stays to keep them anchored as they start to soar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on mainly two things; how John said (in the Days of Our Lives interview maybe?) that it took a while for him to get used to the other three, and how the movie highlights him being often nervous in the early days (he's relieved they have to lip sync Killer Queen, because, "perfect performance".)
> 
> I didn't want to write too much about his audition because there are a lot better ones out there already and we're probably getting it in the DVD. I hope not too much of this is retconned once that comes out.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Don't Stop Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie rises to fame, part 1/3; they take the leap of faith.
> 
> Set during the one year after Keep Yourself Alive and before Seven Seas of Rhye (kind additional reminder: movie timeline).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it takes so long for me to write these, I swear I have the entire story outlined in detail until the end. I guess I'm also still trying to find a style to stick with. I hope it's not too inconsistent.

When the band starts to become something serious, the odds also begin to stack seriously against them.

They struggle through their studies as they work to make their music. Roger starts over when he steers towards biology despite not even liking it any better than dentistry. Brian finally drops his doctorate despite being in love with the stars as much as he is in love with music. They decide it will be worth it, despite the pressure of having to make _good_ music that follows.

Being serious about the band also means being serious about money. It was before John even joined them when they decided to share a flat. Now, Freddie and Roger manages to open a stall at Kensington market while Brian takes up teaching in classes. They’ve only started on the stall, but Freddie already feels that getting along with Roger is the easiest thing in the world.

They spend one day to sort out their things in the flat and ends up trying on many, many clothes. Roger gives one last tug on a yellow floral jacket that he fits on Freddie and turns him to face the mirror. “This looks _gorgeous_ on you, Fred.”

Freddie grins at their reflection and puts on a pose, marveling at how well Roger’s jacket frames his bare chest. “Yeah? I think it’s sexy.”

“It looks sexier on me, but alright,” Roger manages to say before Freddie swats his arm playfully.

“I’m serious. This one’s really nice, let’s keep it here,” Freddie almost begs.

Roger sighs and glances at the mess in their shared flat, scattered with many pieces of embroidered tops, fur coats, and feather scarfs that they are meant to sell. God knows Roger _loves_ to try them on and wishes he could keep them, but they can’t keep pretending like they can continue to afford small luxuries like this.

Roger concedes here, however, that the yellow really pops out quite nicely. “Mmm, alright,” Roger agrees. “As long as I get to wear it too.”

Freddie twirls in satisfaction and goes to pick out something else, this time a black, v-neck velvet top embroidered with clear beads. Roger sits down and looks at Freddie thoughtfully. Freddie returns then, noticing that faraway look in Roger’s eyes. He gently ruffles Roger’s blonde locks to bring him back to reality. “Darling, you think too much.”

Roger leans into the caress and sighs. “Can you really blame me for worrying?”

Freddie settles next to him and hears the unspoken questions. _Are we going to make it? Did we throw everything away for nothing?_

Not known to many, Roger takes a lot of time contemplating about their music. It was one thing to get together over a shared interest of Jimi Hendrix and playing small gigs in pubs and colleges, but investing money to keep up with the dynamic, ever-changing music scene is another thing entirely. Their rock songs right now are heavy the way Brian and Freddie likes them, but those are already on their way to being outdated. Something more aggressive, rebellious, and  _punk_ is on the horizon and the only way for their band to rise is to always present themselves _fresh_.

With everything they sacrificed, they cannot afford to fall behind.

“No, I can’t,” Freddie answers truthfully. He moves to rub his back and Roger drops his head to rest on Freddie's shoulder. “But we’ll make great things, Rog, all of us together.”

That’s the key, then. All of them together in their weird, mad fusion.

Roger pulls away and stares mournfully at the pile of garb on the floor. “I don’t know how much we can make from these.”

Freddie smiles confidently. “I think we can make enough! Besides, if we’re going to be proper rock stars, you know we’re going to have to stand out.”

Roger gives him a boyish grin and, in the lightened mood, puts on the velvet top. “You mean like this?”

He stands up to demonstrate; one hand on his hip, shoulder leaned forward just so, whipping his hair slightly and sporting a tiny pout. Freddie could only hold his chuckling until Roger waggles his eyebrows and grins toothily.

“Okay, pretty boy!” Freddie bursts laughing.

“What? It suits me!” Roger exclaims with a wink and heads to the kitchen, still hugging his top fondly. “Now, I’m starving.”

“Hey, don’t get that dirty!” Freddie shouts.

“You don’t get to complain when I’m the one cooking!”

“What cooking, you couldn’t even boil an egg!”

“Well neither could you!” Roger shouts back from the kitchen. “And you’re _older_!”

“Oh fuck off,” Freddie laughs and lets Roger cook what he wants.

Freddie realizes then that he trusts Roger wholeheartedly with what to do and where they will go. Freddie _doesn’t_ realize, however, that the reason Roger has no doubt about their future is because he already knows how utterly special Freddie is.

They’ll make enough money, even if from Freddie’s own coats that Roger will sell instead behind his back. Freddie will still love him because they will soon get to record their first album – within the year, and with an _outrageous_ name.

For now they may be struggling, but with Roger, Freddie knows there will come a day that they won’t have to worry the slightest about money anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of three, the next ones will be for John and Brian. I wrote this with the image of Roger modeling that v-neck top for Disc. I also felt the need to appreciate not just how fashionable he was but also how aware he was of the changing trends in the music industry. I hope that came across in the story, but if it didn't, it was alluding to Sheer Heart Attack (song).
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	4. Rock It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie rises to fame, part 2/3; they finally begin to soar.
> 
> Set during their first US tour, aka Fat Bottomed Girls in the movie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this ready for a while but I just kept going back to edit it again and again... I hope you'll like it!
> 
> Hmu on Twitter @Riaaanna!

It takes some time for John to warm up to the three of them.

That doesn’t bother them much, because John being John was the reason he fitted so well in the first place. Nonetheless, Freddie is relieved that by the time they record their first demo, John has finally gotten comfortable enough to add sarcasm in their conversations and join the other three in ignoring the concept of personal boundaries.

 _Killer Queen_ turns out to be a hit and they found themselves thrown into the chaotic mess that is their first US tour. Freddie steps alone into their tour bus one day, many hours after a performance. The bus should be clear at the moment and he is ready to collapse in exhaustion. However, he is pleasantly surprised to find John already settled on a bench, freshly-showered and changed, his long hair shadowing over a mess of papers that he is hunching over.

Freddie pauses to make sure John isn't composing - something that Freddie discovers is best when he is left undisturbed - before he squeezes himself next to John on the bench in greeting. John scoots over to make some space, smiling briefly before going back to his papers. Freddie squints at them and figures out the shorthand writings and calculations – their tour expenses.

“You do know we have people to do this?” Freddie asks and drapes himself over John tiredly. John relaxes almost instantly at the touch and finally looks up to rest his eyes.

“I just need to be sure,” John answers. “It’s easy to lose track when we’re too busy hopping off cities to give it a look.”

Freddie hums in response and glances at the large sum of money they have apparently spent for the tour. “That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“It will be worth it,” John reassures him.

In a strange way, it’s comforting for Freddie to hear it from John. They’re only starting to get used to growing like this; too many new faces suddenly working for them and too many stage technicalities to fuss over in a scale they barely dared to even dream of in the past. Anyone else would get overwhelmed, but John becomes the anchor that keeps them grounded.

“Well, give it a break for now, you’re tired and you look like shit,” Fred insists as he gets up and begins to clear the table.

John glares at him fondly and, giving in, helps tidying up. “Oh thanks, Fred.”

When they finish, they move to sit on the backseat of the bus with a glass of drink each. John rubs his hands over his face. Now that Freddie have said it, he feels utterly exhausted.

“You want to lie down?” Freddie asks gently.

John shakes his head. He wants to keep Freddie company. “No, it’s okay. Just a little tired.”

“Good kind of tired?” Freddie asks, his voice almost giving away an insecurity. “How did we do, you think?”

“ _Very_ good, yeah,” John huffs in answer to both questions, recalling the euphoria of their performance earlier in the day. “Feels like a dream."

Freddie nods with a genuine smile. John is the youngest among them yet the most perceptive. Perhaps it's his early marriage, even if only recently, that adds the new laugh lines and smooth wrinkles around his eyes. Perhaps he was just born with that kind of wisdom that will turn his hair grey sooner than the rest of his bandmates.

When John began to write his own songs for the next albums, Freddie could tell that John likes his music with a little more pop and, who knows, maybe a little more funk. Freddie thinks John might feel like he’s just stuck in a rock band, playing bass lines for rock songs because that’s what he and Brian always wrote for him to play.

Freddie doesn't know if that's true. Either way, he is grateful that John even chooses to stay with them for so long.

John, almost as if reading Freddie's mind, adds gently, “I _do_ want to be here, Freddie. You know you don’t have to keep checking.”

Really, Freddie thinks, he cannot hide anything from John. “I know, love. I’m sorry. You mustn’t ever think that I doubt you.”

“Freddie, if I wanted to leave, I would have done it the moment you tried to murder me with a mic stand on our first gig together.”

Freddie laughs heartily at that and John looks pleased to share that particular memory.

John is right, though. After all, he has looked after the band since before they could barely afford recording a demo. He has seen the band from a perspective that none of the other three has and decides that they are worth putting his faith into.

 _Every band’s not Queen_ , John had said, gently yet confidently, to their new, skeptic manager who looks after bloody  _Elton John_.

“You should sing,” Freddie says and casually sips his drink, as if they haven’t had this conversation before.

“I can’t actually sing.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous–”

“Anyway, I _was_  singing a bit."

"You never turn on your mic, it doesn't count."

John makes a gesture that vaguely says, _I was still singing._

“On lead, for your Ronnie song,” Freddie clarifies unnecessarily. “To add your voice on the album."

John smiles warmly at that, mostly at the mention of his _Ronnie song_. “ _You’re_ already my voice, Freddie.”

Freddie doesn't even have a facial expression to respond to that. "Oh, darling."

He forgets that John can be like this sometimes, immensely passionate beneath his calm persona. He has known all along that John is always looking. This time, John is looking up to him, and Freddie almost feels unworthy.

The night has gone much darker when their conversation gently blends into the quiet. When Brian and Roger comes back much later, they will move quietly and smile fondly at the sight of John and Freddie asleep on the backseat and drooling on each other.

The tour is far from over and they are far away from home, but there is no other place they would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why that ended soft but I liked it!
> 
> To my knowledge, not only did John have a good business mind as they all say, but John was also the one who gave the greenlight to the large spending of their tour because he projected that it will be worth it.
> 
> I know irl John hasn't married by the time of their first US tour but there's about a year-ish gap between his marriage and A Night of the Opera releasing, so since this takes place right before the Ray Foster scene I just sort of fitted it there.
> 
> No idea if Fred ever actually endorsed John to sing.
> 
> Brian is last but not least for this mini trilogy!
> 
> Thank you for stopping by!


	5. Let Us Cling Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie rises to fame, part 3/3; they triumph over their insecurities.
> 
> Set during the recording of Bohemian Rhapsody at Rockfield Farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a lot more touchy-feely and I'm blaming Brian for being this sentimental irl. He cries easily, I can't help it.

Brian has been trying to figure out Freddie for some time now.

_The scale of opera, the pathos of Greek tragedy, the wit of Shakespeare, the unbridled joy of musical theater…_

When the band enthusiastically agree to the idea of _A Night at the Opera_ , they can’t really say they know exactly what’s on Freddie’s mind, but they can feel that this is their time and they are finally free to become who they are meant to be.

This will be the canvas that they can each paint their colors into, but Brian knows that only Freddie truly has an image of what sort of masterpiece it’s going to be.

All of these are whirring inside Brian’s mind when he lies awake in his room, gently strumming on an acoustic twelve-string laid on his stomach. The sky above Rockfield farm is especially stunning at this time of night, but Brian cannot bring himself to look out there tonight.

This is everything he has ever wanted, but something in his chest feels a little bereft. Maybe it’s inadequacy; despite the fiery confidence they all started with, he hasn’t felt like he’s good enough these days. Maybe it’s homesickness; he knows his father hasn’t forgiven him for choosing music and it hurts because Brian loves him so much and wants him to see what Brian can really become.

His throat clenches. He strums and murmurs the lines that has been floating in his mind for days.

_Hurry put your troubles in a suitcase,_

_Come let the new child play,_

_Lonely as a whisper on a star chase,_

_I’m leaving here, I’m on my way…_

He winces when he hears the whisper of his own voice break towards the end. Then, he hears a knock on his door as someone pushes it slightly open. He sniffs and blinks away the beginning of tears in his eyes and sits up to switch on the light. Freddie stands there, looking at him meekly before letting himself in.

“Sorry I woke you,” Brian says hoarsely as Freddie flops down unceremoniously next to him. Brian lies back down too.

“Oh no, darling, I haven’t slept. Roger is out like a fucking light, though,” Freddie says. “I’m still writing something. I think it will sound lovely with a harp…”

Brian turns to face Freddie, deadpan. “A what.”

Freddie grins wickedly. “Oh, we’ll sort that out later. Now, what were you playing just now?”

Brian sighs and puts away his guitar carefully. “It’s not finished. Probably not for this album.”

“Are you sure? Is it that one you told me you had a dream about, years ago?”

Brian recalls the image of a great flood and arms reaching out for each other. It makes him shiver, but he _is_ working on that. “No, not that one.”

“Is it the one you made Deacy learn the double bass for?” Freddie guesses again, because that one definitely uses the twelve-string.

Brian looks absolutely miserable at that. “Please don’t tell him I was joking.”

“He really _would_ do anything for you.”

“I didn’t know he would take it seriously!” Brian defends, a smile already making its way to his face because John really does make it sound _good_.

Freddie smiles too, satisfied that he is slightly cheered. The moment soon passes and Brian looks at the ceiling again when Freddie takes his hand curiously, examining his white nail polish that has started to flake off. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Freddie says.

Brian hates that Freddie can read him better than the other way around. It’s a wonder how they work terribly well together, both perfectionists in their own way and both insatiable for the need of spotlight on stage. Maybe that’s why they easily argue about songwriting sometimes, but that’s also why it’s so much easier for Brian to write his guitar solos when Freddie sits with him, listens, and encourages him that he’s _good enough_.

Freddie is still waiting for an answer and Brian whispers, “I miss my dad.”

There is a sympathetic pause from Freddie until he squeezes Brian’s hand. “You’ve all met my family. You’ve seen my dad… I’m sorry I can’t be of much help.”

“Don’t be,” Brian mutters weakly. “I just wish he could be happy for me.”

“Then you show him what you’re made of, dear.”

That sets Brian off – he doesn’t feel like he’s made of anything worthy of his father’s approval. He feels his face crumble and shuts his eyes against a fresh wave of tears.

Freddie knows this kind of insecurity far too well; when everything he plays on the piano sounds unsatisfying, or when he fears his voice would give out in the middle of singing, or when he suddenly wonders what his father would think of him as the crowd cheers to him on stage. It consumes him now and then, but never when he’s with his best friends.

So Freddie sits up, lets go of his hand, and touches Brian’s wet cheek instead. “Brian, love, will you look at me?”

Brian forces his eyes open and looks up at Freddie, who smiles down to him and rubs his shoulder soothingly. “If you can’t believe in yourself then you’ll just have to believe in me," he declares. “You are what I want. _You_ are my Jimi Hendrix, and we will do this thing together.”

Brian lets out a noise between a chuckle and a sob, then closes his damp eyes in gratitude and relief. “God, Freddie…” he whispers and lays his hand on top of Freddie’s. “Now what am I supposed to say to that?”

Freddie leans back on the headboard and pets Brian’s hair. “You just get some sleep, dear, and wake up tomorrow with the most epic guitar solo ever written in rock history.”

Brian thinks Freddie’s being ridiculous but soon falls asleep before Freddie finally returns to his room. They will wake the next day – Brian will finally record his solo for Freddie’s _thing_ while Freddie looks at him fondly _._ Freddie will reveal his grand plan for an operatic section, babbling away his insecurity, while Brian won’t take any of that and will convince him he _loves it_.

“What have we got to lose?” Freddie will ask, barely containing his elation.

Brian will be confident with his answer then, laughing and beaming in adoration like the sun itself.

“Nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I was looking for an excuse to fit Long Away there. In an interview Brian was asked, what would he liked to be remembered for? He answered White Queen, Long Away, and Teo Torriatte. And We Will Rock you of course.
> 
> Other songs referenced if you're new: Love of My Life (harp), The Prophet's Song (great flood), '39 (double bass).
> 
> Next chapters will deal with more conflict (hopefully, if I can resist putting in so much fluff everywhere).
> 
> I'm on Twitter: @Riaaanna. Thanks for stopping by!


	6. Let Me Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger, John, and Brian watch as Freddie falls in and out of love with Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content WARNING from this chapter onwards: there will be allusion to period-typical and internalized homophobia.
> 
> I tried my best to make all the chapters chronologically linked, but I found it easier to deliver what I want when I focus on one idea at a time even if I have to pick out from different time settings in the movie. I hope it's not too confusing.

Freddie walks up to Roger and Brian one day after rehearsals, begging for one of them to walk with him to Biba to see a girl. It has been a long day without a bassist and Roger isn’t exactly keen.

“Please?” Freddie looks at them with his impossibly big, brown eyes. “I won’t take too long.”

Roger groans. “Right. Who’s this girl then?”

Freddie grins in excitement, taking it as a yes. “Her name’s Mary.”

Brian glances up at the name and makes the connection with the clothing store. “Mary Austin?”

“How did you know?”

“I, er, sort of went out with her once.”

Roger giggles at the indignant face Freddie makes. “Oh, just my luck!”

“Never mind that, it was ages ago!” Brian encourages with a grin. “Go with Roger. You’ll make an impression on her.”

Freddie checks again just to be safe. “You sure, Brian?”

“Go already.”

That’s how Roger finds himself lingering disinterestedly near the jewelry displays at Biba, glancing at Freddie and Mary from afar.

Roger bites his lip nervously as he watches Freddie pick something from the ladies’ section. Freddie seems to realize and hurriedly puts it back, looking around self-consciously.

Roger feels something twist in his guts in response to Freddie’s own insecurity.

Mary looks at Freddie for a moment and Roger stiffens, wondering if he should jump in. Mary then smiles and helps Freddie into the dressing room. Roger finally exhales in relief.

They haven’t known Freddie for too long, yet it doesn’t take long for Brian and Roger to adore how charming and expressive he is. But the world is too small-minded for how amazing Freddie could be, Roger thinks, if only he were allowed to live and love freely. Roger silently promises to stick up for Freddie, even though it’s probably too early in their friendship to be this protective.

He waits outside and smokes. Freddie and Mary meets him after an hour.

“Roger,” Mary greets him.

“Heya,” Roger smiles politely and peeks at Freddie’s shopping bag: patterned tops, bell bottoms, and two bottles of nail polish (black and white).

Something inside Roger loosens. Maybe she’s alright after all.

The boys say their goodbyes and walk home. When they’re far enough, Roger asks, “How was it then?”

_I think we should all take more risks. Don’t you see what you can be?_

Freddie looks at him and there’s a glimmer in his eyes that Roger hasn’t seen before. It looks good on him. “She’s lovely. I like her.”

It’s a satisfying enough answer, so Roger circles his arm around Freddie’s waist and teases him cheekily, “You old romantic.”

* * *

John is surprised when he and the boys learn of Freddie’s real name and origin, then realizes that he shouldn’t be. Of course Farrokh Bulsara wasn’t born in boring old London.

He listens to Freddie’s dad telling them the history about their Indian-Parsi family, how he sent Freddie to a boarding school and how they fled Zanzibar. He listens to Freddie’s mum gushing to Mary, pulling out a photo album, telling embarrassing stories about Freddie’s childhood.

_Good thoughts, good words, good deeds._

John can’t imagine how difficult it must be. Freddie was a child away from home, his family were immigrants who had to fit in on a foreign land. It doesn’t help now that his dad doesn’t approve of his musical passion and her mum innocently keeps waiting for him to bring home a nice girl to settle down with.

There must be a reason Freddie hadn’t done that last one until now, John thinks. He begins to wonder about Mary and then stops before he rudely assumes too much, listening instead to Freddie _Mercury_ singing himself a happy birthday song without a care in the world and letting himself fall a little deeper into admiration.

He doesn’t think about this anymore until after they get John Reid as their manager, after Veronica announces her pregnancy and he rushes his own shotgun wedding, after they all crash Freddie and Mary’s flat in celebration of their secured US tour, and additionally, of Freddie’s engagement.

“Congratulations, Freddie,” John says when he has Freddie alone for a few minutes, absent-mindedly stroking one of Freddie’s cats that jumps to his lap.

“Oh, thank you, love,” Freddie replies, then lowers his voice as if confessing a secret. “I was nervous, a little. I’m not the easiest person to live with… but she puts up with me and lets me be who I am.”

John thinks of Freddie’s strict upbringing and the expectations of his Zoroastrian parents, echoing it distantly with Veronica’s own Catholic family. Sweet Ronnie at home is still getting used to the glamorous lifestyle of his rock star husband, but Mary looks ready to stand with Freddie as he conquers the world. John looks at Mary who is quietly conversing with Brian, then looks at Roger who is entertaining his latest girlfriend, Cheryl.

If marriage is supposed to bind a man and a woman for the rest of their lives, he’s glad Freddie will spend it with someone who makes him happy.

“That’s good,” John murmurs. “I’m happy for you.”

Freddie hummed. “Maybe I’ll find what you found with Ronnie.”

John forces a smile; as if marriage is a romantic fairytale, as if he hadn’t only _just_ started figuring out becoming a father himself.

 “You will, Freddie.”

* * *

 Brian can’t tell how long he and the boys have been waiting for Freddie to finish his phone call.

They are at a truck stop, standing a few feet away from the phone booth where Freddie is, adrenaline long faded after another night of performance in the Midwest. They have endured this much; the studio recordings at ungodly hours, the management drama with Trident before John Reid rescued them, playing with Mott the Hoople as a supporting act and not even getting to finish. This US tour of their own is a dream come true.

Brian looks at Freddie tiredly as John and Roger’s conversation fade around him. The Midwest drives him a little crazy, as the cities blur and the exhaustion catches up to him. Coming down from the high tonight, he feels a sudden emptiness and wonders if the other boys feel it too. They are loved by hundreds on stage, but now he feels astray, here in the quiet and away from home.

A truck pulls over to park and Brian squints at the too-bright headlights before the engine stopped. The driver steps out and passes by, slowing not-so-subtly before turning around the corner. He must have looked at Freddie, then, because Freddie’s gaze follows him to the corner before he hangs up the phone and disappears to the corner to follow the man – Brian has a vague idea that Freddie hasn’t gone in to pee.

“Bri?”

Brian quickly tears his gaze away, as if he was caught peeking into a very private moment. Roger and John stare at him, apparently done with whatever they were chatting about. “You okay? Where’s Freddie?” Roger gestures at the empty telephone booth.

“Gone to the loo, I think. Might take a while.”

John gives him a look with furrowed brows. They’ve been here the whole time and Freddie hasn’t said anything to them. “How do you mean?”

Brian looks flustered for a second before looking away. “Er, no, never mind.”

There was an awkward silence. “Well he better hurry, he spent ages on the phone spending God knows how much money and we still need to buy food cause I’m starving," Roger complains. John hums in agreement - international phone calls cost a fortune.

Brian almost sighs in relief that they let it drop. It’s not in his place to say anything, not about how Freddie keeps turning down their invitations to chat up pretty girls at the bar, how the visitors to Freddie's dressing room recently changed from girls to guys, or how he thinks Freddie may have fallen out of love with Mary. John and Roger must have noticed, but he can’t be sure.

They don’t talk about these things, he realizes. They have never asked Freddie about it, just like how they never ask each other about the meanings of their songs.

He wants to blame his father’s strong morality trapping his mind, or the people living among them who are always quick to judge and shame. He can’t bring himself to tell Freddie that he knows, and it’s okay, because he will be there for Freddie, and they all love him for who he is.

 _Coward_ , the voice in Brian’s mind hisses.

Brian doesn’t know how long they can all get away with not talking about it. He stops thinking about it and continues to wait in uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh dear. Lots of things here:
> 
> I struggled with this chapter because I know how a lot of people think of Mary in real life. To my mind she was good with him when it lasted, based on Freddie's testimonies, but afterwards, well we know what we know from Jim Hutton's Mercury and Me. I also think Freddie struggled with coming out because of the time period and because of their fame, and I wanted to take on how the boys just sort of stood there watching all this unravel, in the movie. I kind of blame them, but not really because they love Freddie. Welp.
> 
> First part with Roger was inspired from a long lost pic of a deleted scene showing that Roger was apparently in the Biba scene. Second part with John was inspired by one of his answers in a 50 questions interview saying that his kids keep his marriage together because marriage isn't easy (despite it being the most long-lasting among Queen members). Third part of the Adam Lambert cameo (with a behind-the-scene showing that Freddie did follow him in) was inspired by one or some of Brian's interviews saying that he has always sort of known about Freddie being gay but nobody ever asked or talked about it. 
> 
> Lastly, trying to fit in real-life timeline to the movie's contradicting one is an actual nightmare, I did what I could for it to at least make some sense.
> 
> I'm on Twitter: @Riaaanna. Thanks for dropping by.


	7. Leaving Home Ain't Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie discovers himself and finally breaks free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters start to get longer huh. I really try to keep them consistent but alas...
> 
> I have no excuses for late updates other than Real Life. Thanks very much if you're still here!

Nobody really took notice of Paul Prenter when he was introduced to them the first time. They were all too shocked and too busy trying to keep their cool when John Reid announced them as “our new signing” only minutes into their first conversation. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

Now though, when he’s not actually playing and just too bored of miming Killer Queen for Top of the Pops, Roger really looks and decides there’s definitely something funny about him. Paul has his eyes glued on Freddie during the entire performance, and even after they finish, his gaze still follows Freddie everywhere he goes.

“He gives me the creeps,” Roger whispers to John and Brian when they’re out of earshot.

John elbows him as Brian snorts in laughter. “Be nice.”

They think nothing of him in these early days, when they dare not think _anything_ of him, who comes with John Reid, with the promise of rescue from the debts they were sinking in from their last disastrous management, and with the unflinching support to the (possibly ludicrous) idea of an opera-inspired rock album.

Brian does raise his eyebrows, though, as they settle into the damp, creaky house at Rockfield, at the face Paul makes when he shows Freddie into the _biggest room_. He remembers what Roger said, but then he sat on his squeaky bed and pulled back to blame it on his own jealousy.

Later that night, Freddie doesn’t even try to sleep because he can’t get this song out of his head. He plays the piano for a moment before he notices Paul lingering at the threshold, looking at Freddie like he knows something that Freddie doesn’t.

Paul allows himself in. Freddie continues to play.

_Bring it back, bring it back,_

_Don’t take it away from me,_

_Because you don’t know what it means to me…_

Freddie takes a moment to clear out the intensity of emotions and breathe. Then, he realizes that Paul is still in the room and he suddenly feels so exposed. He keeps his eyes down and scribbles something, as if he didn’t just bare his soul and allowed someone else to witness it, as if he doesn’t feel like shivering for reasons he can’t pinpoint just yet–

“That’s beautiful,” Paul murmurs and goes up to him. “What’s it called?”

Freddie sets down his pen. “Love of My Life. I wrote it for Mary,” he answers, almost defensively, enough to be true for now.

“If you say so," Paul huffs in reply, and Freddie looks up at him sharply. That is as close as he gets to saying that he knows who Freddie really is… or so Freddie thought, before Paul leans over him to snub out his cigarette, waits out what Paul wrongly supposes is sexual tension, and catches Freddie’s lips in a forceful kiss.

There was a sudden jolt of _fear_ , for different reasons that quickly tumble into one another. The first one is mostly shock, his body reacting against the unexpected attack on his lips. The second one, which comes slowly and settles heavily, is that _he’s caught,_ he’s been found out, Paul knows and the band will know _but Paul is still kissing him–_

Freddie turns and pushes him away. Paul looks confused – the audacity – and Freddie supposes he can try to be kind.

“Don’t misunderstand, Paul,” he says gently. “Mary knows me in a way that no one else ever will.”

Freddie hopes it’s enough. He doesn’t say that Mary doesn’t know him anymore, which fits even better as a reason for the song itself. He doesn’t say that he doesn’t actually have anyone now, because he doesn’t want to look like he’s lonely and in need of some kind of shelter. He clings to his _idea_ of Mary, convincing himself so he can convince others – but it’s much like a child who close their eyes and tell themselves they can’t be seen.

Paul touches his chin without warning, pretends to not get the message. Freddie stops himself from flinching and hates how this encounter makes it feel like it’s wrong, like he’s wrong, when he _knows_ there’s nothing wrong with him being like _this_.

“I know you, Freddie Mercury.”

Freddie doesn’t know if he means it as a confession, a plea, or a threat. It doesn’t matter – he pushes away again and shakes his head. “You just see what you want to see.”

Paul leaves, eventually, and Freddie sighs in relief. He hopes he hasn’t cost the band their assistant in the middle of their make-or-break album.

He doesn’t think about how awful it is that he has to worry about that more than about himself.

* * *

 Love of My Life becomes a crucial part of A Night at the Opera, and eventually, all their upcoming tours.

Brian couldn’t resist Freddie and his big brown eyes when he begged, “Just a few chords, Brian my love, you know I only trust you for this.” So, Brian suffered through strumming a volatile, stubborn harp for Freddie. He wrote something of his own, an acoustic for the stage, which Freddie loved so much he would become so much more used to it than his own original.

Tonight, as they stand before the largest paying audience in history, Freddie feels a sudden wave of nausea. There was no reason for it – he _definitely_ made sure he was sober enough to be on stage and that counted as effort for him, Bohemian Rhapsody was a massive success, and this is just another night in their worldwide tour.

He still feels it, though, and he moves away from the spotlight on stage to the far, dark corner where Brian is switching his Red Special with an acoustic. Brian looks at his approaching figure in alarm, because Freddie’s not supposed to be here and they’re supposed to transition quickly. “Freddie?”

“They don’t know it,” Freddie whispers desperately, eyes gesturing at the massive, non-English speaking crowd of Rio.

Brian sighs and wraps an arm around Freddie, rubbing his shoulder through his glittery silver costume. “It’s alright,” Brian murmurs, trying to convey as much comfort as he can to bring back the confidence they had for this song back in Rockfield. “Play our best, like every other night. It’s alright.”

Freddie nods shakily. He rids his mind of Mary and phone calls that grow rare, of Paul and an underlying sense of anxiety, of any other particular people. _It’s just a bloody song._ He looks at the audience and decides they deserve the best. This is their song now.

“You’re okay,” Brian whispers reassuringly before hurrying back out to the stage to greet the audience.

Freddie follows him afterwards. Brian strums the intro and Freddie is prepared for the worst, but unprepared for the crowd to beat him to singing the lyrics first, strongly echoing into the starlit night.

_Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…_

Yes, this is their song now.

He spares a glance at Brian in awe and disbelief. Brian looks at him brightly, _told you._

* * *

 “Yeah, hang on,” Roger calls out to the hesitant knock at his front door late at night.

He opens it to a disheveled, weary-looking Freddie, who doesn’t wait for permission and barges in with a croak, “I need a drink.”

Roger watches with raised eyebrows as Freddie ransacks the kitchen and decides to wait it out in the living room. He sits on the end of the sofa before Freddie comes in, downs his drink, and proceeds to stretch himself across the sofa with his head on Roger’s lap.

Roger gives it a moment before asking, “So…?”

Freddie turns his face to Roger’s stomach and mutters, “Mary and I broke up.”

Roger sighs shakily, half in sympathy and half in relief. He knows Freddie has lost interest – in Mary or in women, he isn’t sure yet – and yet Mary has been looking at wedding dresses. This is better sooner than later. He threads his hand through Freddie’s hair. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Freddie sniffs. “No, it was bound to happen. You’ve known… haven’t you?”

Roger doesn’t want to assume, continues to stroke his hair. “Known what?”

“That I’m… I’m not…”

_I think I’m bisexual._

_Freddie, you’re gay._

Roger takes the confirmation and spares him from having to say. He pulls him close with another sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ve known.”

Freddie winces because he was only asking about Roger. “You never said anything.”

“What is there to say?”

“I… I don’t know,” Freddie admits. He doesn’t think he needs to tell everyone who he is or put himself in a metaphorical, arbitrarily labeled box. He’s relieved that his best friends don’t think he needs to either. The world thinks it matters though, and it doesn’t matter what Freddie thinks, because they’re in a rock band now, and they pay the price of belonging to the world. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”

Roger smiles a little, _there you go then_ , before asking carefully, “What did _she_ say then?”

 _Your life is going to be very difficult._ He hates how it sounds like she cursed him, even though it was said out of pity. Freddie doesn’t want it to be true, so he doesn’t tell Roger. He feels something like _freedom_ but is still afraid of it being forbidden. When he finally speaks, there is no grief or regret in his voice.

“She said she saw it coming. Then she cried and just left. I don’t know what to do, now.”

Roger looks at him helplessly. “You know I’m not any better at this, Fred. I’m sorry.”

Freddie reaches for his hand and squeezes. He knows that Roger has his own commitment issues. He knows how much Roger loves Dominique and even the idea of having _children_ with her, yet he is still so hesitant about marriage. Perhaps it was that he had to see his own parents’ divorce, or that he was truly afraid of being constricted. Freddie never asks, only understands and keeps the secret as if it’s his own. It’s the least he can do when Roger does exactly the same.

“It’s fine, Rog. Truly.”

“I know.” Roger closes his eyes and murmurs after a moment, “You deserve to be happy, Fred.”

Freddie is suddenly met with renewed determination. He will find his own happiness – not for his parents whom he always worry he will disappoint, not for Mary who will always be his best friend but never again cling to, and not for the faceless judgmental society they live in.

He will find his happiness for himself, he promises, as he curls into Roger in gratitude, falling asleep to the gentle hand smoothing circles on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I think the movie could handle better was how Freddie wasn't in Sexual Confusion as if considering he was attracted to Paul when he was approached, as if Paul "made him gay", but he was being wary of him. And Freddie wasn't that grossly clingy to Mary, but he was finally figuring out what he wants and drawing clear lines about it. And how LOML isn't 100% Mary, as we learn from interviews.
> 
> Of course what happens next is that not everybody adapts well to that - and none of that is Freddie's fault really. More on that later!
> 
> LOML extended scene inspired by LOML live Montreal '81 where Freddie mutters "they don't know it" and Brian says "it's okay". Idk TOO much about Roger and Dom's little details other than that Roger didn't believe in marriage, I'm playing by ear looking at Roger's history of relationship.
> 
> I'll shut up now. I'm @Riaaanna on Twitter!


	8. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything begins to change for Queen. John sees it coming - and so do the rest of them.
> 
> Doesn't mean they know just what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the kids now say, it has been a HOT minute since I updated this!
> 
> Tags are updated with a few things. Please read responsibly.
> 
> Apologies for any timeline confusion. There are two parts of this chapter with specific time settings, so I hope it helps. And oh no my chapters get longer. Enjoy!

John Deacon isn’t ready for fame.

Well, he supposes he just isn’t ready for the shock – both from suddenly hearing that Bohemian Rhapsody had gone to #1 and from the elevator suddenly jolting to a halt when they decided it would be perfectly fine to collectively jump inside a moving elevator. They get rescued soon enough, but now instead of stumbling into their respective hotel rooms, they stumble out for celebratory drinks. They waved away their bodyguards – and, successfully, even Paul – for the night, wanting the moment to themselves.

“Cheers!”

Four glasses clink in the small booth in the hidden corner of a small, cheap club. They’re huddled together, glowing in joy, pride, affection.

“Amazing,” Brian mutters, looking at Freddie as if for the first time. “I’ve always known it was you, Freddie.”

“Oh pish-posh, we _all_ worked hard on this.”

“No, no, Bo Rhap is _your_ baby, and I’m proud to have seen its worth before anyone else did.”

“Hey,” Roger interjects, “ _I_ have seen its worth before anyone else did!”

“Yes, Roger, as you have successfully stuck your song on its B-side,” John chirps in.

They all roar in laughter at that, even Roger. From where they are now, the argument of putting _I’m in Love with My Car_ on the B-side and consequentially getting the same amount of royalty as Bohemian Rhapsody feels like it was years past.

They pour more and drink more, except John.

“Have you also always known, Deacy?” Freddie asks.

“Known what,” John says with an amused smile.

“That we’ll be _legends_!” Freddie exclaims, along with Roger’s, “That we’ll make _so_ much _money_!”

John laughs. They _all_ know how this started as just a hobby for him, how he didn’t expect to be dragged into stardom, and how in the end he finds that he doesn’t mind anyway. “You know I have.”

“No way,” Brian slurs. “You were barely impressed when you first watched us.”

“No, he was coming up with ways he could make us _legends_ ,” Freddie answers for him.

“We just didn’t know that included putting _him_ in the band!” Roger adds helpfully.

Brian looks at them in awe as if a piece of puzzle slots in to complete a mystery in the universe. He raises his glass. “To Deacy!”

“To Deacy!” Roger and Freddie cheers.

John grins stupidly and affectionately pats Brian’s hair, frizzly from the lack of shower. “You boys are drunk.”

Roger looks at John, the way he looks at John when he notices something from him that the others don’t. “Why aren’t you drunk?”

“He just holds it better than the rest of us,” Freddie complains.

“No, _why_ aren’t you drunk?” Roger insists, because John loves a good drink but now John looks anxious about something. Knowing him, it’s probably something far in the future. “Are you having a premonition?”

“Oooh, big word,” Freddie teases.

“It’s _not_ a big word,” Roger says with a roll of his eyes as Brian begins to drunkenly defend him, “Roger’s _clever_. He’s so clever he can run clever circles around us all.”

Freddie snorts and Roger pulls Brian close with one arm. “ _Thank you_ , my dear, but John has yet to tell us his _premonition_.”

John sighs and swirls his glass. He hates it when Roger is the second most sober. “It’s just a bit much, that’s all. Don’t know if we – if _I_ can keep up.”

Freddie looks sober in an instant, John’s words about bands breaking up suddenly echoing in his head. “What do you mean? You’re not–”

“Of course not,” John says quickly, hand already squeezing Freddie’s. “I just mean – we’ve taken this plunge. There’ll always be people looking wherever we go – and we’ll always be going somewhere away, and…”

Freddie tilts his head thoughtfully and flips his hand to hold John’s. “And we’ll live doing what we love. Don’t you want this too, John?”

What John doesn’t say is that he feels like he’s given a part of himself away for all _this_ , and even though he doesn’t quite know what it is, he’s worried that he’ll never get it back.

What he also doesn’t say is perhaps Roger doesn’t know the feeling because he’s not sick in love and missing Jo every second just as John does Ronnie, perhaps Brian knows the feeling but he’s in denial of what that would entail for Chrissie and him, and Freddie – John doesn’t know how much longer Freddie will pretend to be someone he’s not with Mary, but he knows Freddie is _all in_ for stardom.

All three pairs of eyes look at him expectantly. There is no other answer.

John’s voice leaves no room for doubt. “I do.”

Freddie smiles sweetly. “Love, if the drinks aren’t doing you good, then dancing definitely will. Come on now!” He stands and heads away, Roger on his heels with a grin as if to encourage John.

“I think I know what you mean,” Brian murmurs to John when the other two are gone. “You can’t get away from the adrenaline. You come down and feel a bit lonely. You come home but feel everything around you is out of place.”

John’s silence is confirmation enough. Brian smiles. “But Freddie’s right. I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now. And… we’re all good for each other, John, we’ll– we’ll take care of each other.”

John feels the familiar warmth of belonging and returns Brian’s smile.

“Brian!” A drunk Roger shouts from the dancing crowd in the distance. “Come here and celebrate our _childhood dreams_!”

“You were _nineteen!_ ” Freddie shouts back in annoyance.

John snorts – doesn’t matter _when_ they formed Smile because his boys are all being _children_ right now –  and Brian stands up, grabbing John with him. “Come on then.”

Well, his _premonition_ can fuck right off, he supposes.

* * *

 John Deacon can _definitely_ get used to fame.

New Orleans is a charming creature of its own. Well, it’s that or Brian has successfully over-romanticized the city into John’s head. He knows that there is absolutely no need for the Jazz launch party to be this excessive, and _that_ in itself is the entire reason that the party ends up this excessive.

John finds a comfortable spot among what must be about four hundred people in the jungle-decorated hall. The alcohol buzzes pleasantly through his system, killing his anxiety of crowds, pumping the mantra Freddie started all this with: “Let us live a little, darling.”

Brian finds John in the crowd, coming up to him with a bottle of Dom Perignon and a wide grin. John squints at him. “And who is that from, Brian?”

“Dunno,” Brian says as he pours it to two glasses coming out of nowhere. “Found a case on my bed. Thought you might like it.”

“What a gentleman.”

They toast, and when Roger tackles them both in a surprise hug from behind, they barely manage to not slosh the wine all over their suits. “Did you find her then?” Roger asks Brian too loudly over the noise.

Brian throws him an offended look as if Roger just exposed him and John furrows his brows at them. “Find who?”

Roger only winks naughtily and Brian looks away with an exasperated sigh. John blinks. Of course, _Peaches_ , who else – “Are you serious, Brian.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything!” Brian quickly defends, crossing his arms. “I didn’t find her, if that makes you happy.”

John groans in disbelief. Roger tuts and pours one for himself. “Well,” he says with a clink and a large gulp of his wine. “Marriage is overrated anyway.”

Roger pats their shoulders in farewell before taking off to see the crowd-stealing jiggly little man under meat cuts, ignoring the hurt glares (which Roger doesn’t buy, anyway) from Brian and John.

“He doesn’t mean that,” Brian needlessly says to John, before correcting himself, “He doesn’t mean yours is.”

 _Is yours?_ John wants to say, but that’s a step too far, because John is _here_ too, away from Veronica and his two children, where the sinful sight of nude women – in the crowd, on bicycles, in the _mud_ – are inescapable. So, John shrugs and leaves Brian in the crowd – Brian, who already became a father and reminds John too much of what he had to give up to be here.

It’s not difficult to find Freddie instead. John looks at where the biggest crowd is and pushes his way to the center.

“There you are!” Freddie greets John excitedly after excusing himself from the flock of record executives and journalists. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Sure do.” John drinks his wine – _God_ he loves the taste of it. His vision is hazy but he smiles at the free, lively, beautiful Freddie who has never _glowed_ like this before. His hair is shorter – all their hairs are, except Brian’s is just tidier – and he carries himself with a much more confident aura. After successful albums and worldwide tours, he reminds John of _victory_. “You look amazing.”

Freddie laughs gleefully. “I know you’re tough but don’t drink _too_ much, darling.”

“It’s true! Well, I know at least _they_ think it’s true.”

John gestures to their guests who have their eyes glued on Freddie. Some of them want an interview, some of them anticipating more generous gifts, others are unashamedly ogling him. It’s like he belongs to them. Freddie relishes in it. John understands – they all need to unwind from the high, the expectations, night after night when they can barely stand the pressure.

Freddie looks impatient and John notices. “Go on then,” John chuckles as Freddie blows him a kiss in gratitude.

John can’t tell how much time have passed or how much wine he had drunk. His ecstatic energy turns nervous with each passing hour, until he finds a point where he has to stop trying to _dance_ his energy off.

He manages to haul himself to the hall to his suite. He hears giggling from inside one of the suites and belatedly registers when he’s already far down the hall that it was Roger, giggling the way he does when he’s high on lines and lines of coke. He can’t bring himself to go back and check on him though, so he mentally sends Roger best wishes of surviving until morning.

He passes another suite when he hears a banging and a long, wanton moan of pleasure from inside, among quiet gasps and sighs. John hates that his brain thinks it’s Brian, but walks away, tells himself that he’s too drunk to _know for sure_ because it’s not even Brian’s suite (not that it has to be, for Brian to be there), scolds himself for any bitter feelings because it’s not right to be jealous of being able to stupidly, carelessly give into temptations while _he holds himself together_ –

He unlocks his suite and strips off his clothes in the dark. He crawls under the heavy blankets and closes his eyes, pretending to not hear the muffled crash of a chandelier downstairs and the following raucous cheers.

The press conference next morning is a more restrained, dignified event. John handles his hangover quickly and skillfully. Freddie looks only a _little_ knackered, which is amazing considering the little sleep he got last night. Roger, however, looks ill. Brian occasionally rubs his hand gently on Roger’s back, quietly telling John and Freddie that Roger has been throwing up all morning.

The first question thrown by a journalist who doesn’t look like she was there last night, “What a hell of a party last night, but wasn’t it a bit too much? The nude women, the little people with… was it cocaine?”

Roger mouths to John, “There were little people with cocaine?” and John shrugs as if asking, _where did you get yours?_ However, Freddie answered quickly, “We just wanted to have fun. I guess some people don’t like to look at nude ladies. It’s naughty, but not lewd.”

“Your _Jazz_ album has no jazz in it,” the next journalist allows himself to take his turn. “It’s not rock ‘n roll either. Sounds like the same dull pastiche of _something_ , whatever it is you’re playing.”

Brian clears his throat, readies his diplomatic response. “It’s a different flavor of our usual music, a little _European_ , but–”

“It’s condescending and arrogant,” the journalist continues bravely.

 “Yes, I guess it wasn’t perfect,” Roger tries quickly, because Freddie looks ready to fire back. “They aren’t all the best like our previous hit albums–”

“But this is our work that we’re _all_ very proud of,” Brian interjects pointedly.

John purses his lips and feels the tension coming off the other three in waves. The press conference finishes at last and it doesn’t end up bad, but that one journalist seems to haunt them as they walk off for an impromptu band meeting.

“What the hell was that?” Brian asks as soon as they have privacy.

“Rolling Stone,” John supplies unhelpfully.

“No,” Brian turns to Roger. “What the hell was you agreeing that it wasn’t our best work? That’s not how we approach the press, Roger–”

“He wasn’t going to just agree with you, Brian, I had to try and be a little realistic!” Roger argues.

“Don’t let this get to you,” Freddie says gently to all of them. “There will always be people who shit on our work and we can’t waste our time entertaining them!”

Brian gains confidence. “And if you don’t like the album, you don’t have to gang up on us _with_ the press.”

Roger gives a bewildered look. “I didn’t _gang up_ on you! God, it’s me again, me and my piss poor songs that don’t make hits, that don’t make _money_ as much as _you two_ just because they’re not about _butts_!”

“Roger,” Freddie warns – when their arguments dip into the financial subject, Freddie has learned, things go downhill very quickly.

“ _What?_ Why do you always back him up? He doesn’t even like your song, Freddie, he thinks it’s hedonistic and _separatist_ –”

“ _Roger_!” Brian exclaims, his expression genuinely hurt.

John steps in then, because if any pair of them can cause the _worst_ fights, it’s Brian and Roger, not only because they’re both stubborn but because they know how to break the other if they really want to – a side product of their long friendship. He presses his palm to Roger’s sweaty forehead and wraps an arm around him. “Roger, you’re ill,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Roger looks at him miserably and mutters, “Are you just _okay_ with this?”

John looks at Brian and Freddie, their faces undecipherable. The unwritten law – that whoever brings in a song will get the credit and the money for that song – has given them an imbalanced dynamic in business terms. It’s not something they ever talk about, now that they’re working in terms of making _more profit_. John thinks they should, someday.

“No,” John admits quietly without looking at the other two. “But we’ll have time for that. Let’s take care of you for now.”

He keeps Roger upright as they hobble out of the room. Brian, left with Freddie, forces himself to look up at him.

“Freddie,” Brian whispers, afraid of how Freddie will look at him now. “I didn’t… I’m not…”

Brian loses his words. Freddie smiles tightly and squeezes his shoulder, rubs a thumb on his collarbone, then leaves the room, too.

The room is empty and Brian is suddenly reminded of the one night they were just boys celebrating their big break in a cheap club. It feels like a lifetime ago, when they started this, when John said they’ve finally taken this _plunge_.

Brian prays that they can survive this fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, as opposed to the movie, they're ALL prone to excessive partying and being jerks about royalty share after all. And of course John, being the one reliable to look at them as if from the outside, saw it all coming.
> 
> I intended this to fill the time gap in the movie between the breakup with Mary in 1976 and Freddie's sudden 1980 transformation. It bothers me, the narrative that Freddie came out and suddenly changed and jumped into a lifestyle EVERYONE disapproved of. They're all definitely guilty. But don't worry, they'll get better!
> 
> The historical facts I think most of you already know. Many are taken from the Days of Our Lives documentary and the Queen: The Complete Works book (for the second party). Too many references to point out but important parts: there really was a press conference, and the Rolling Stone journalist is based on a real reviewer who wrote that Queen is a fascist band.
> 
> Thanks for still being here! I'm on Twitter: @Riaaanna.


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